


Misunderstandings Lead To Love

by dixons_mama



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, Gay Sex, Jealous Sherlock, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Making Love, Misunderstandings, One Shot, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Virgin Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 05:05:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12028740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dixons_mama/pseuds/dixons_mama
Summary: When Sherlock deduces wrongly as to why John comes home late, disheveled smelling of another man, jealousy takes over. John needs to find out what is wrong with his friend, and in the process, everything falls into place.





	Misunderstandings Lead To Love

As John clambered up the steps to 221 Baker Street, he couldn't believe what a day he'd had. Nothing but toddlers with diarrhea, and elderly people with UTIs. Then, on his way home, in the stifling summer heat, he'd stopped to help a gentleman with a flat tire.  
The older man looked like he was about to start crying by the time John approached him and asked if he needed help.  
"Thank you so much!" The man, introducing himself as Duncan, had explained, "I don't know a damn thing about vehicles, and I left my mobile at home. Can you believe that?" John just smiled and nodded as he got the jack and spare tire out of the boot of the car. It took nearly twice as long thanks to the long-winded stories and questions that Duncan insisted on telling and asking.  
By the time John was finished, his shirt was drenched and his hair clung to his head with sweat. Once the flat tire and jack were back in the boot, Duncan pulled him into a bear hug and nearly lifted him off the ground. Being so close to the man, John felt sick to his stomach. Duncan, it seemed, was the type of fellow that enjoyed marinating in cheap, musky cologne. Luckily after that, they parted ways.  
As John entered the kitchen, running his fingers through his damp hair, he saw Sherlock staring at him. His face was set in stone, and John feared that he was in another one of his moods.  
"You're late," Sherlock said in a stony voice. John lifted an eyebrow at that.  
"Yeah, you wouldn't believe the evening I had." He was about to explain about Duncan and his flat tire, but in the blink of an eye, Sherlock stood up from the kitchen chair and stormed off to his bedroom. "Ok, then..." John said to himself.  
So Sherlock was acting odd, but that definitely wasn't unusual, and he couldn't be bothered to figure out what was going on in that complicated mind of his. He desperately needed a shower.  
-  
The next day was Saturday, and John couldn't be happier about it. He'd gone to bed early the night before. Sherlock had stayed locked up in his bedroom, and hadn't spoken a word to him. When John finally climbed out of bed at 9am, his shoulder ached. He had hoped changing a simple flat tire wouldn't be enough to upset his old wound, but it would appear that it was.  
Coming down the steps from his room, and into the living room, John saw that Sherlock was finally out of his room and in his chair.  
"Good morning," He said cheerfully to Sherlock, who still seemed to be brooding. Sherlock sneered at him before snapping, "Yes, well I suppose after a rigorous evening like you had yesterday, I would expect you to be having a good morning."  
John tilted his head and squinted his eyes. What the hell was Sherlock on about? Instead of inquiring and feeding Sherlock's madness, John just headed into the bathroom.  
By the time he'd finished using the toilet and brushing his teeth, John saw that Sherlock was now on the couch. He was lying on his back, fingers steepled under his chin. In his Mind Palace, it would seem. So John made himself some tea and toast, then sat in his chair to begin reading the paper.  
-  
It was nearly 7pm when John received a text from Lestrade. He asked for his and Sherlock's assistance on a case. John replied, asking why he hadn't texted Sherlock first. He looked over at his friend: Sherlock was on his side, back towards John. He hadn't heard Sherlock's phone make any noise all day. When Lestrade answered, he said he had tried, but had got no response. John supposed Sherlock's phone was dead, or just silenced perhaps. He told Lestrade he would talk to him and let him know when they were on their way.  
John stood and walked over to his pouting friend. He picked up his phone and saw that it wasn't even on.  
"Sherlock, why is your phone off?"  
No response.  
"Lestrade texted me, he's got a case for us. This should get you out of the rut you seem to be in." And with that, Sherlock slowly turned his head to look at him.  
"No."  
It was all he said before turning back over. John's mouth fell open. No??  
"Greg said it was definitely a 7, so get up and we can leave soon. Maybe get some Chinese on the way home, yeah?" John was hoping this was enough to get Sherlock off the couch, although he was fibbing about the case being a 7. He hoped that would go unnoticed.  
Almost knocking into John, Sherlock nearly jumped off the couch and headed back to his bedroom. He couldn't have this. John needed to know what was upsetting him so much. Grabbing on to Sherlock's wrist, he yanked on him hard.  
"What is going on with you?? You've been in this weird mood since I got home yesterday. I know I certainly didn't do anything, so you need to tell me. If you're saying no to cases, it's got to be something serious. Did Mycroft-" Sherlock cut him off before he could finish.  
"YOU didn't do anything? You certainly did SOMETHING yesterday before coming home."  
John was confused by the pained look on Sherlock's face, and the angry tone of his voice. "For years now John, you've made it very clear to anyone who'll listen that you are not attracted to men. I actually believed it, but it would appear that it's just me. Apparently it's just me that you're not attracted to! But a balding, grey haired 60 year old bloke wearing a puke green jumper, and suffering from moderate dandruff, that's right up your alley!"  
John tried not to be completely lost about what Sherlock was going off about. He remembered fixing the man's tire, and recalled him wearing a hideous green jumper. "Duncan?" Was all he could ask, still not sure why Sherlock was so upset. What did he mean about him not being attracted to him, but somehow was into other men?  
That was pretty much the exact opposite. Other than a few times in Uni, and his time with Sholto, John hadn't wanted to be romantically involved with any man. That is, until he met Sherlock. Since that day in St. Bart's, he'd slowly but surely fallen in love with his crazy, enigmatic, stunning, brilliant flatmate. Of course, that was something to be kept quiet about. Something to be denied at every opportunity. He couldn't let something like that come out. John knew his unique friendship with Sherlock was the best he could ask for, and refused to ruin it over his ridiculous feelings.  
"Oh, Duncan is it?" Sherlock all but roared, inching himself closer to John. "So tell me, what was so special about him? What does he have that I don't?" Finally, like a bullet to the head, it hit John. Sherlock was jealous. Sherlock thought he had done something with Duncan.  
"Sherlock, are you crazy? I changed an old man's flat tire! I didn't have a fling with him, jesus!"  
"John, please. You come home sweating, hair a mess, reeking of another man's cologne. This morning you are obviously... sore." Sherlock looked down, looking uncomfortable even thinking the words, let alone saying them out loud.  
"Yes, I'm sore, because I fixed a damned flat tire yesterday. Duncan hugged me in appreciation after I was done, and my hair was a mess because I was sweating my ass off the whole time." John tried his best to not yell, and sound even toned. "Why would I have an affair with an old man I just met? Why would you think that if I AM attracted to men, you'd be the exception?"  
Sherlock's mouth parted and he began looking nervous.  
"I.. I seem to have deduced incorrectly. My apologies." Immediately Sherlock tried to retreat to his bedroom again, but John grabbed both of arms.  
"You didn't answer my question. How could you ever think that you'd be the exception? Also, why are you acting so jealous?" John couldn't resist a knowing grin as everything he'd wanted with Sherlock came into his grasp. He couldn't lose this now. He had to let Sherlock know he reciprocated his feelings. Feelings that John wasn't sure if Sherlock had ever felt before.  
"Irrelevant! Please let me go." Sherlock replied, already putting up his nonchalant walls.  
"No. It's ok Sherlock." John pulled Sherlock closer to him, sliding his arms up to Sherlock's shoulders. "I don't think we have to be scared of this anymore."  
"Don't be absurd! Afraid of what? Why should I-" John dropped his hands to his sides.  
"If I'm wrong, you need to tell me now. If I'm right, and you don't tell me now, things will never be ok between us again." John replied sternly. He stared into Sherlock's eyes, noticing his Adam's apple bob as he gulped.  
"John, I can't lose you." The words barely audible to his ears, made John's eyes tear up. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock and felt long arms reach around his body.  
"I will never leave you, so long as you want me-" John was cut off.  
"I want you, John, I want you so much." Sherlock placed his palms onto John's face, their eyes met each other and the dam burst. Without a second thought from either of them, their lips crashed together.  
John's hands rubbed up and down Sherlock's long, lean back. Meanwhile, Sherlock carded his fingers through John's silvery wheat colored hair. Moaning and gasping filled the room, and soon their clothing just felt too hot, too constrictive.  
With no hesitation, Sherlock began pulling up John's shirt. Feeling gratitude that Sherlock hadn't changed out of his pajamas, John immediately followed suit and disrobed the man whose lips he couldn't get enough of. Hands roamed freely for the first time and neither could get enough.  
Sherlock slowly began walking backward, pulling John with him. John got the hint, and he too wanted to go to Sherlock's bedroom. So following suit, they were able to quickly navigate their way there. Falling into bed together, legs entwined and it was soon realized how far this could go.  
"Sher.. Sherlock," John was barely able to gasp out, "Tell me if you want to stop."  
"Don't you dare stop," was all Sherlock could reply before John was on top of him and tugging down his pants. In no time at all, they were both nude and staring at one another's bodies. Slowly, gently, John brought himself down on to Sherlock. Feeling every inch of his body touching Sherlock's was more than he'd ever imagined. It felt so intimate, so emotional.  
With trembling fingers, Sherlock ran his hands down John's back, then gripped down onto his ass cheeks. The sensation made John thrust his hips forward, rubbing his cock right on to Sherlock's. They both moaned and grunted, which was quickly followed by laughter. They smiled at each other, they could finally be completely open with the other.  
With no more barriers, lies, or deceit forced between them, John and Sherlock knew their true lives could finally begin. Yes, there would need to be long discussions, secrets revealed, and much more, but first- this.  
They continued kissing until they were both breathless. Sherlock rolled John over and sat with both legs on either side of his hips. He sat there, just admiring the man underneath him. Sherlock wanted to place every inch of John into its own file in his Mind Palace, but also very much wanted to taste every inch of him.  
As Sherlock simply stared at his naked form, John gently wrapped his hand around Sherlock's hardened length. He made sure to watch Sherlock's face. John would stop the second he looked uncomfortable. Instead of looking upset, though, Sherlock threw his head back and moaned John's name loudly. The very sound caused his cock to twitch, and a bead of pre come slid down to his stomach.  
Sherlock placed his hand around John's and began sliding it up and down his cock. Together, they stared at their hands, watching what was undeniably something they had both fantasized about. It was actually happening now, and it was so, so good. Without removing his hand, Sherlock leaned over to his bedside table and rummaged in its drawer. After just a moment, a bottle of expensive lubricant was removed.  
Once John laid eyes on the bottle, his hand halted. Terrified that he'd been too presumptuous, too forward, Sherlock removed his hand from John's and dropped the lube.  
"John.. I didn't mean to assume anything, I just.. in case.." Before he could continue rambling nervously, John pulled Sherlock down and kissed him heatedly.  
"Sherlock, you have no idea how much I want this. I wouldn't turn down anything you offer me tonight." John's husky voice made Sherlock shudder. "What do you want to do tonight?" Not wanting to give the wrong answer, Sherlock tried to avoid John's question by kissing him again.  
After several minutes, John finally realized what Sherlock was doing, and gently pulled away. "I wasn't joking, anything, Sherlock. If you want to just kiss, that's ok. If you want oral, that's ok. If you want to receive or give anything tonight, I'm perfectly happy to oblige. Please, tell me, love." Sherlock turned pink upon hearing the term of endearment slip from John's mouth. He knew John wouldn't lie to him, especially about this, he would tell him the truth.  
"I would like, very much, to be... penetrated." John nodded and smiled, then pulled Sherlock back down into a deep kiss. Rolling Sherlock back onto his back, John kneeled between his thighs. After stroking his hand over Sherlock's glorious cock several times, he leaned down and wrapped his lips around it.  
Sherlock gasped loudly and latched his fingers into John's hair. Feeling that warm mouth and slick tongue all around him was an incredible feeling. He'd been so distracted by the sensation, he hadn't even noticed that John had already put lube on his fingers and warmed it up. He only realized once he felt a single finger begin rubbing gently against his entrance.  
"Ohh, John, yes!" Sherlock whispered loudly, he wanted to yell and scream, but was still embarrassed by it. John definitely got the hint though, and slowly pressed his entire index finger inside of him. Awash in bliss, Sherlock was only coherent enough to moan when asked if he was ready for another. Then another.  
John knew he wouldn't last long, hearing, feeling, and seeing Sherlock falling apart was doing things to him that he'd never experienced before. It was truly incredible. After plenty of preparation, John removed his fingers and lubed up his cock. It was aching and he could barely wait to have it inside of Sherlock.  
Their eyes met, and they both were already a wreck. Sherlock gave a small nod, but that wasn't enough for John.  
"Tell me, Sherlock. I need to hear it." His voice was gentle and soothing.  
"John, take me apart. I want you, I need you. Please, John!" That was plenty for John, he took himself in hand and pressed his cock into Sherlock ever so slowly, watching for any sign of pain or discomfort. But all he saw was Sherlock's lips parted and eyes staring into his. Once he was fully seated, John gave them both a moment to get used to the feeling.  
Sherlock felt so full, and so stretched, but he'd never felt such pleasure in his life. He had John inside of his body. The very thought nearly short circuited his mind, and he had to remind himself to keep breathing. After the thought finally sunk in, he realized that John was waiting for him to give him the go ahead.  
"Move, John, move." And with that, John slowly began thrusting in and out of Sherlock. Neither could hold back the moaning and gasping that escaped them. John eventually hitched Sherlock's legs over his shoulders, and couldn't help but speed up. It seemed that Sherlock definitely didn't mind.  
After several thrusts in this new position, Sherlock knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer. Each time John bottomed out, his cock hit his prostate, and it was mind blowing. John knew it was happening, Sherlock's incredibly loud reaction was proof enough. Hands grasping, Sherlock pulled John onto him and they kissed roughly. It could barely be called a kiss after a few seconds, soon it was just panting into each other's mouths.  
"Sher.. Oh God, Sherlock, so good! You feel-"  
Sherlock nodded frantically, curls sticking to his forehead.  
"John, I'm so close, don't stop!" Hearing Sherlock moan these words directly into his mouth, John sped up. Sherlock's fingers scraped up and down John's sweaty back, neither cared that there would be marks later. In fact, Sherlock was rather looking forward to seeing them. John was his now, and he needed proof that this was real.  
Less than a minute later, John moaned Sherlock's name loudly. It was the only thing he could say before his orgasm overtook him and he stilled as his cock released inside of Sherlock. The very feeling of John's come filling him up pushed Sherlock over the brink and he came, hard. Jets of his semen covered his chest, neck, and some even landed on his chin.  
John collapsed on top of Sherlock, and they both just stayed like that, trying to catch their breaths. Several minutes later, John was able to lift his head and looked at Sherlock's face. Sherlock's eyes were closed, but John knew he wasn't asleep.  
"What are you doing?" He asked.  
Sherlock slowly opened his eyes, and gave a small smile.  
"Cataloging everything."  
John huffed out a laugh. Of course he was.  
"John, what just happened, that was.." Sherlock gesticulated with his hands, not sure if there was a word that could properly explain the experience.  
"I'm hoping that you're looking for a word similar to amazing or perfect." Sherlock lifted his head and kissed John softly.  
"Yes, but even those aren't good enough. I was thinking more along the lines of life altering, earth shattering, or mind blowing." They both laughed, and smiles lingered on their lips.  
"I love you, Sherlock. I wish this hadn't taken so long." John hoped those three words weren't too soon, but he had to get them out. It'd been so long since he'd started thinking them. They needed to be said.  
"I love you, John. I know, but it is what it is, and it's perfect now.


End file.
